Phoenix Files
by Lorde Shadowz
Summary: Vignettes in my Phoenix Burning verse.
1. Chapter 1

Phœnix Files #1: Wonderful and Terrible.

Firenze trotted easily through the forest watching the fireflies dip and blink. Moonlight picked out his sleek palamino coat and rippling muscles in stark relief.

The evening was cool; there was no need to return to return to camp just yet. Besides, he was avoiding Bane. The blasted star-licker should _not _be tribe leader.

Idiots, all of them. All about "it's written in the stars" and "we must let events happen as they are fated to." Putting the burden of destiny on the shoulders of a sixteen year old boy, and assuming that a Dark One who was bent on ravaging the Wizarding world, killing all nonmagicals, and rewriting history would be lenient to _them _simply because they had not been involved. Or perhaps they had decided that it was "fated" that their mares should be slaughtered and their foals taken away.

In this state of mind, Firenze was wandering through the forest, not caring where he was going, fuming at the state his once-noble tribe had come to, and at the wreck that unworthy and incompetent practitioners had made of the ancient art of divination. And that's when the trees ahead of him illuminated by a glorious pale blue light.

Firenze could taste the Ancient Magic thrumming in the air, and when he looked up, he saw Libra, the Scales of Judgement, twinkling like an outline of jewels on black silk. Jupiter was blazing so bright that Saturn had dimmed to a mere twinkle.

Firenze did not base his life on the stars, unlike _some _centaurs he could mention(cough cough- _Bane-_ cough cough) but these signs marked great and wondrous changes.

Led on by a feeling he barely understood, Firenze began to trot towards the light ahead, eyes fixed on the shimmer of unearthly blue. Closer and closer he came, until he broke through the trees, to see a small clearing, normally unremarkable, enveloped in blue fire.

In the center of the fire lay a wizard, maybe unconscious, maybe dead. And perched on his chest was a bird, a type of Egyptian phœnix so very rare that the pharaohs revered them as gods. It was warbling, no singing, even as it's feathers shriveled and blackened, and Firenze knew that this bird was the origin of the supernatural flames.

Firenze caught a breath, awed as he realized what was happening. Not since the days of Merlin himself has such a thing happened, not because it required a great deal of raw magic, but because it was a magic of intent, and the phœnix had to literally roast alive before its Burning Day to save a dying or soul sick wizard, hoping that the Old Magic would judge the wizard worthy to be healed or redeemed.

Firenze shivered. There was something about it, too, that made him suspect this wasn't a mere Flame Healing, either. That which was happening had never had a precedent, nor would it again, and it filled the centaur with wonder and terror. If the wizard survived...something told him that neither the man nor the world would ever be the same.


	2. Chapter 2

Phœnix Files #2, The Halls of Hogwarts

What had started out as a fairly ordinary Thursday was quickly becoming surreal. Minerva Mcgonagall had woken up a bit earlier than usual, because she'd gone on a moonlit ramble through the halls of Hogwarts the night before, and the chill made her bones ache. Sensing that she would miss her first class if she tried to go back to sleep, she graded the last three Transfiguration essays she had, and then went down to breakfast.

On her way there, raised voices ahead of her in the hallway alerted her to a confrontation. She sighed. She did not want to deal with this right now, especially as one of the voices belonged to Draco Malfoy, and the other was Harry Potter. Severus tended to reverse any punishments she tried to give Draco for the fights he often started with Harry in the halls.

"...At least I don't sleep with a stuffed dragon."

Mr. Malfoy spluttered. Then to her fury, he drew his wand, shouting "_furniculus_!"

Potter responded with a lightening fast "_protego". _She was just about to intervene, when someone else rounded the corner, getting there first. Her heart sank as she saw billowing black robes: it was Severus Snape. He always took the side of his little Slytherins, even if they were wrong.

So she was understandably shocked when he spoke. "Twenty points from Slytherin for hexing a classmate in the halls, Malfoy. You ought to know better- that's Gryffindor behaviour."

"Harry hexed me first!" wailed the little menace.

"Give me your wand."

Malfoy held onto it tightly.

"Give it here, I'm not confiscating or snapping it, I'm simply checking it."

"Check Potter's!" Malfoy said petulently.

"Potter, hand me your wand."

Harry gave the Potions professor his wand without a murmur. Snape performed "_priori incantem"_, and smirked: the wand showed a "_protego_", "_lumos_", an "_acio_", and a spell that they had practiced the day before in Transfiguration, among others.

"And another twenty points from Slytherin for lying to a teacher," he said with viscious pleasure. Mcgonagall fairly gaped.

"My father will hear about this!" threatened Malfoy.

Severus sighed. "Let him. Taking points for transgressions is not against school policy."

"He knows things that the aurors would love to-" began Malfoy suggestively.

"A hundred points from Slytherin for threatening a teacher." Severus snapped. "And for the record, it's never a good idea to blackmail a Slytherin."

And with that, Snape swept away, robes sweeping regally behind him, a genuine smile curving his lips.

As Minerva dazedly went on her way, she heard Ron Weasley's voice in the background: "Harry, mate, what did you do to Snape? Is he imperiused?"

Minerva could only agree.

AN: Please enjoy this sneak peek of Phoenix Burning Chapter 8


	3. Chapter 3

Phœnix Files #3, A Letter Sent

Draco Malfoy was in shock. The day had started out well enough, actually very good; his mother had sent him a liberal allowance with her usual care package, and Draco couldn't wait to go to Hogsmeade the following day. It had just been the icing on the cake when he'd ran across Potter and his hangers-on in the hallway.

He'd taunted the boy, but Potter didn't seem angry- on the contrary, his lips kept twitching into a smile as they exchanged insults. Draco had quickly gotten frustrated and drawn his wand, not caring if anyone was watching. And that was when his godfather swooped over. Draco grinned. Potter was going to catch it!

"Twenty points from Slytherin for hexing a classmate in the halls, Malfoy. You ought to know better- that's Gryffindor behaviour."

Draco jerked in shock. That wasn't supposed to happen! "Harry hexed me first!" he lied, rather poorly, as he hadn't expected the blame to fall on him.

Snape's lips tightened. "Give me your wand."

Draco understandably refused.

"Give it here, I'm not confiscating or snapping it, I'm simply checking it." What was going on!?

"Check Potter's!" Draco said, as a last ditch effort. Perhaps Potter had cast a restricted or Dark spell or something, and Snape would be distracted.

"Potter, hand me your wand."

Potter gave the Potions professor his wand without a murmur. Snape flicked it, muttering "_priori incantem"; _the wand showed a "_protego_", "_lumos_", an "_acio_", and a spell that they had practiced the day before in Transfiguration, among others.

"And another twenty points from Slytherin for lying to a teacher," he said with viscious pleasure. Draco was beginning to wonder if Snape had been _imperiused_. It was simply impossible that he, prince of Slytherin, could lose forty points in one day!

Snape didn't look like he was going to back down. Draco decided to try a few threats."My father will hear about this!"

Snape heaved a sigh. "Let him. Taking points for transgressions is not against school policy."

Damn. Now for the big guns. "He knows things that the aurors would love to-" began Draco suggestively. Hell, _Draco _knew things about his godfather that the aurors would love to get their hands on, if it came to it.

Snape's nostrils flared. "A hundred points from Slytherin for threatening a teacher," he snapped. "And for the record, it's never a good idea to blackmail a Slytherin." And then he stalked away. And as he did so, he turned his head, and he _winked._

Snape had winked! Snape had actually winked at Potter! Draco was in denial. He couldn't have lost this many points from Slytherin. It had to be a joke. He would walk into the Great Hall, and the emeralds in the house hourglass would not have moved. Maybe this was a nightmare. Yes! That was it! He'd wake up, and nothing would have happened.

He strolled easily into the Great Hall and sat down in his usual spot, pulling over a bowl of porridge, and began to eat. As the Hall slowly began to fill, he became aware of a buzz of talk, not just from the other houses, but from the normally quiet Slytherin table as well.

That was when Blaise Zabini took a seat opposite him. He began without preface. "Ok, Draco, spill. We're down 140 points and the Gryffindors are saying it's your fault. What the Hell happened?"

Draco stared at him blankly, then, suddenly registering what he'd just said, pushed aside his porridge, feeling sick. So he _had _actually lost points. 140 of them, to be specific. And Blaise's brown eyes were accusing, demanding answers. "I don't know! I swear Snape is polyjuiced!" he stammered desperately.

Several of the other Slytherins were leaning in, and many more were probably listening in, just not being obvious about it. Daphne Greengrass was incredulous. "Snape. You're saying Snape took 140 points. From Slytherin."

"What the Hell did you do?" that was Nott.

"I..." Draco's mind was blank. "I swear I don't know! I just hexed Potter in the halls!" He was _not _admitting to trying to threaten his godfather.

"You hexed Potter in the halls." Blaise repeated slowly. "And Snape took 140 points. You really are a horrible lier."

"How did you even get into Slytherin at all?" chipped in Millie Bullstrode. "You hex wizards in the halls, and lie like a Gryffindor, and you don't need ambition when you have daddy's money!"

"That is _not _true!" Draco protested, flushing a delicate red. "And I'm _not _lying!"

It was very evident that no one believed him.

The rest of the day was still worse. The Gryffindors were intolerably smug, and the other houses were following their lead. And as Snape seemed to be taking as many points from Slytherin as he normally did from Gryffindor, the house hourglass of Slytherin was substantially lowered by lunch time.

After lunch, the 6th year Slytherins and Gryffindors had DADA, and the entire class, Gryffindors included, were very much subdued as Snape swept in, the usual scowl plastered on his face. Draco, however, felt that the man wasn't actually angry, which was proved when, in the middle of reading from the textbook, Snape abruptly called Potter to the front of the classroom, allegedly because he had been passing notes.

Draco was suspicious. Surely Potter would have just gotten a point deduction if Snape was angry with him. His suspicions were furthered when Potter actually set Snape's robes on fire! And Snape only took ten points, and made him sit down, accompanied by a snarky comment, and a detention. Something was going on here, and Draco was going to find out what.

After they read to the end of the designated chapter, Snape conjured several targets, and made the class line up, in pairs of Slytherin-Gryffindor, to cast '_incendio_' and '_glacius_' at them in turns. Ron and Draco had to be broken up after the Slytherin punched Ron's nose.

At the end of class, when the bell chimed, Snape barked "Potter, stay after class!"

Potter, who had been cramming his books sloppily back into his bag, raised his head. "Ok," he said, and then to his hangers-on, "You don't have to wait for me."

"Ok, _sir_, Potter," Snape reprimanded without turning around.

Weasley and Granger reluctantly followed the rest of the class out. As soon as they were out the door, Draco crept back to eavesdrop.

"Adequate, Potter," Snape was saying calmly. "A very Slytherin approach. However, I do wish you would spare my robes, considering how many you've already scorched."

"Umm, I didn't actually burn you, did I?"

"I assure you that I would have taken more than ten points for _that_," Draco could hear the rhythmic shuffling of his boots as he paced. "Come, no doubt your friends will think that the Slytherin monster has rendered you for potion ingredients if you don't hurry up. We will talk later, preferably somewhere that can be adequately warded against eavesdropping, as some of the things I have to tell you are rather sensitive. My quarters. Tonight."

"Ok, what should I say when my friends ask about detention?"

"You will be cutting iguanas into their component parts for me," Snape replied. "Go on now. Oh, and ten points to Gryffindor for creativity. Draco gasped.

He walked down the hall, thoughts spinning, shaken out of his daze by sudden, horrified curiosity. When had Potter and Snape gotten close enough to share secrets? To make Slytherin schemes and invent excuses to talk to each other? When had Potter started _lying _to his friends? And what on earth was Potter doing going to Snape's _quarters_, of all places. Were they- Draco gagged- an item?

Draco changed directions on his way to Magical History. Binns would never notice he was gone, and he had to get to the owlry to post a letter. Father would be very interested in these new developments...


	4. Chapter 4

Phœnix Files, #4: The News I Bring

Lucius Malfoy was terrified. Truly terrified. He had never seen the Dark Lord so angry as he had been the previous night, and he was still trembling ever so lightly, so that the brandy quivered in his glass. It had started as a typical meeting...

{Flashback}

Lucius hurried into Riddle Manor, long hair bouncing on his shoulders in his haste. It was not at all good for his health to be late, and he knew it. To his relief, he had only missed the appointed time by a minute, and in any case, he was late for the reception only. Lucius easily slipped into his role as a loyal follower and titled lord, snagging a glass of champagne and some sort of ordurves, and wandered through the room, joining various conversations, swapping stories about muggle-baiting when the ladies weren't nearby, and waiting for the meeting to start. And then the Dark Lord glided in.

"Welcome." Lord Voldemort eased himself into his throne-like chair, red eyes gleaming like coals in the dark. "Welcome, my loyal followers. And my not so loyal," he added in a hiss, eyes fixed on Lucius, who blanched behind his mask. "I have a few little things to attend to before the main reason I've called this meeting. Yaxley, report!"

"Yes, my Lord," responded the man, kissing the hem of the Dark Lord's robes. "I have nothing of importance to report, merely that the ministry is in turmoil with your reappearance, and with Bones dead the auror units take twice as long to respond to trouble. You should be able to take over as soon as that poser Scrimgeour is out of the way."

"Thank you. Rookwood?"

"The department of mysteries is a mess right now. The time room has been totally destroyed, and the Hall of Prophecy has been gutted. I have been unable to locate a copy of the prophecy."

"_Crucio_," said the Dark Lord lazily. "Anyone else?"

"M-my Lord?" Lucius turned to look at Pettigrew with mild interest, even through his fear. Since when did the rat ever voluntary address the Dark Lord without wetting his pants?

"Yesss, Pettigrew?"

If anything, the sniveling little rat seemed to shrink a little more. Then, finally, he burst out: "Severus's teaching Potter occlumency!"

Ok, _that _he hadn't expected. Still, he welcomed the announcement; if the Dark Lord was busy with Severus, he might be able to leave the meeting in one piece. Speaking of, where _was _Severus?

"WHAT?!"

Lucius, as well as most of the other Death Eaters, shrank away from the infuriated Dark Lord. But he was actually even more scared when the Dark Lord abruptly smiled.

"Let us continue to the main part of the meeting," the Dark Lord said coldly. "Severus can explain when he comes crawling back to me. I have Called you because I expect to have taken over the ministry in a month's time. Lucius?"

"Yes my Lord?" replied Lucius humbly. To his credit, his voice didn't shake.

"I expect you to use your bribes and influence to run for Minister of Magic, as soon as Culpeper takes out Scrimgeour. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Culpeper, you must assassinate the Minister. Use any means necessary, Lucius will cover the cost," the Dark Lord told Culpeper, giving Lucius a warning look. Lucius quickly nodded.

"Rookwood, you and Valentine are to take over the DoM, understand? I want my followers to be the only ones who can access it."

"Yes, my Lord," rose from two independent throats.

"When Lucius is minister," the Dark Lord continued, "all of you will be given jobs in high places, and with the _Prophet _under our thumb, we will be unstoppable. And when Dumbledore is...eliminated," (Lucius flinched violently; Draco had been given the task to kill him, and Lucius had been forced to take an unbreakable vow not to help in any way, as punishment for his failings. He could only helplessly watch.) "One of you- I'll make it Bella, will be made headmistress."

Lucius privately shuddered at the thought of Bellatrix being around children, especially his son.

"I have only one more, lesser announcement. We will be...celebrating in Hogsmeade, and I hope all of you will join in. I have procured portkeys. On Saturday morning we will arrive at Hogsmeade, and we will attack. The Ministry will not be able to to scramble Aurors there in time- Avery, I believe, has paid Scrimgeour off well, and Amelia is...compromised. And I have other plans for when Dumbledore's order shows up."

At that moment, the inner wards chimed, and a slender masked figure slipped in the door.

"Ahh, Severus." The Dark Lord hissed.

Severus flinched. "Yes my lord?"

The Dark Lord was smiling, and Lucius feared for his young protege's life and sanity. The Dark Lord's smile held the frost of a thousand winters, the poison of a thousand basilisks. "I need you to answer...a few questions."

"Yes my-" Severus never finished.

"Crucio!"

Snape stumbled under the onslaught of the torture curse, muscles spasming, black eyes bright with pain. "My Lord-"

"You're late." The Dark Lord said icily. "What is more, I have been having doubts about your loyalty for a very long time. So what is this about you teaching the Potter boy occlumency?"

Snape was trembling now. Lucius was worried, at least the part of him that _could _worry. Severus was a very good lier- you couldn't survive in Slytherin without the trait- but not even he could keep anything from the Dark Lord. Had he in fact been teaching Potter occlumency, his death would be nice and long and protracted. "My Lord, I had to follow Dumbledore's orders or he would suspect me. I did not actually teach the boy anything, I merely broke into his mind repeatedly."

"So perhaps you would tell me what you found?" the Dark Lord said silkily

"Mostly pitiful teenage problems and quibbles," Snape responded disdainfully. "The girl he was dating, for instance, and his talks with his dear, departed god mutt."

"I do not think it is advisable to lie to me," the Dark Lord said pleasantly. Lucius shuddered. "Especially since I'll get it from you anyway." He made a quick, nearly imperceptible motion, and Severus collapsed, petrified as stiff as plywood, only his dark eyes scanning the room desperately.

The Dark Lord paused, then drew a small sealed bottle from his sleeve, and turned it, letting the light shine through the colorless substance. "Your own work, I believe."

Veritaserum. The Dark Lord paced the room, spidery fingers tapping the bottle of veritaserum. At length, he swept to a stop in front of Severus and uncorked the bottle. Then he wrenched the man's mouth open and poured the entire bottle down his throat, then unceremoniously snapped his fingers to break the bind. Severus fell in a heap and lay there until the Dark Lord prodded him with a booted foot, and satisfied himself that the truth serum had taken proper effect. "Where do your loyalties lie?"

"Lily." Severus told him. Lucius, for one, was surprised. Severus actually still carried a torch for the mudblood girl?

"Who?" There was no recognition, but some curiosity, in the Dark Lord's question.

"Lily Potter nee Evans." Snape replied dully.

The Dark Lord made an odd sound, which might have been a chuckle, if he were capable of positive emotion. "Which side are you on, mine or Dumbledore's?"

"Neither."

"Explain what you mean by that." The Dark Lord's voice had taken on a curious timbre. Lucius very carefully began to extricate his wand from its holder, just in case he might need to shield himself.

"Dumbledore is a controlling old bastard who uses his followers and consigns them to Azkaban when they are no longer useful. You are insane, your politics are sickening and your tactics will get us killed. "

"So who _do_ you follow." The Dark Lord hissed.

"Potter." Snape told him. Lucius cringed, wishing Severus could fight the effects.

"Why! WHAT CAN POTTER OFFER YOU THAT I CAN'T!" Lord Voldemort roared.

"Potter has never offered me anything," Severus replied tonelessly. "He's never took anything either. And he's Lily's."

The Dark Lord's anger was palpable, flowing off of him in waves, washing over his followers like boiling water. Lucius crossed his fingers, hoping to be allowed to leave alive. It was pretty much too late for Severus; every second he dug his own grave deeper.

"What do you know about the prophecy?"

Severus was beginning to look very ill from veritaserum poisoning, pale and dripping with sweat. He bit his lip until it bled, then at length gasped and started to talk. "It was delivered by a True Seer to Albus Dumbledore at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade-"

"Hurry up!" the Dark Lord snarled. "Did you report it to me accurately and completely sixteen years ago?"

Severus's glazed eyes showed just a flicker of desperation.. "No," he rasped at last.

"Why not?" The Dark Lord's aura was swirling out of control, shaking the windows and banging the cherry wood shutters. Several of his Death Eaters were edging away, unnoticed. They all knew that when the Dark Lord got angry, wizards started dying.

"First because I had heard it incompletely, and second because Dumbledore did not allow me to."

The Dark Lord made an incoherent, bestial noise. "Tell it to me in full."

Snape shuddered, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, struggling. "The one...with the power...to defeat the Dark Lord approaches," he hissed. "Born to those who have thrice defied him...born as the seventh month dies..." Severus's lips worked soundlessly for a few moments, then he gave a little huff and continued: "...and the Dark Lord...will mark him...as...his equal-"

Here the Dark Lord snarled.

"-but he shall...have power the Dark Lord...knows not, and either...must die...at the hand of the other...for neither...can live...while...the other...survives. The one...with the power...to defeat...the Dark...Lord...shall...be...born...as...the...sseventh...month...dies." Here Snape broke off wretching; that much truth serum was toxic in any circumstances, and much worse if you resisted.

If the Dark Lord had been angry before, he was now incandescent with rage. His burst of accidental magic pulverized the heavily ornamented chair upon which he was wont to sit, and every single window cracked, glass shards flying like shrapnel. The other Death Eaters, except for Bellatrix and a few others, had already departed, preferring to grovel and apologize later rather than to stay and risk death. Lucius, in terror, bolted, deserting the man he had once chosen to mentor. Better to save himself, now that there was no hope for Severus. Besides, the Dark Lord's angry aura filled him with mindless, wordless terror, washing him in decaying magic, and he had to escape, now, before it was all over...

Behind him, he could hear the Dark Lord at his most dangerous, his voice a rasping drawl: "Bellatrix...I think I owe you a birthday present," and the snap of a wand broken in half. Lucius shuddered and used his emergency portkey.

{End Flashback}

Lucius was grief stricken for his friend, but the prophecy, and it's implications, troubled him more, and he had, too, to concern himself with Draco's imminent Marking Ceremony and the fatal mission that his son was saddled with. As he sat there, worrying, there came a tapping at his window, and he opened it dully to see Achilles, his personal eagle owl, holding out his talon, a letter from Draco attached. Lucius frowned. Why would Draco be sending him a letter in the middle of the week?

After casting a few quick revealing charms- one could never be too careful- he slit it open with an elegant penknife, it's handle sculpted into the shape of a cobra.

_Dearest Father, _(it read)

_Something really fishy is going on. Sev's been acting really weird; I think he's either being controlled or he's someone else under polyjuice. Gryffindor got 90 points over night, and then Sev took 140 points from me before breakfast for hexing Potter in the halls! And the two of them are all chummy all of a sudden; Sev actually invited Potter to his personal chambers! Do you know what the Hell is going on? _

Lucius stared at the letter for a long time. Interesting. Vastly interesting. If Lucius brought this to the Dark Lord, he might possibly be able to keep his family safe. He might even be rewarded for outing an imposter. Whatever the case, Lucius knew that the Dark Lord would be receptive to the news he was bringing.


	5. Chapter 5

Phœnix Files #5: Unravelling Secrets

Hermione Granger was confused, and the source of that confusion was her best friend, Harry Potter. She was not stupid, and she'd guessed at once that he'd had something to do with the 90 rubies that had appeared in the Gryffindor house hourglass overnight...and with Professor Snape's totally out-of-character behavior that morning. He'd actually admitted to it! But she simply didn't know how what he had done, or how he had done it, and if there was anything Hermione Jane Granger hated more than Voldemort, it was not knowing something.

Not only that, but the entire school had decided to take a holiday to celebrate Snape's (gasp) deduction of points from Slytherin, and with midterms coming up, it really pissed her off that no one was paying attention to the teachers. This was not even because she wanted everyone to do well, (she'd learned long ago that some people just wouldn't, and that wasn't a personal failure on her part) it was simply because everyone was so _disruptive_! Add that to the twins covertly selling flasks of firewhiskey at lunch (yes, she did notice), and her day was definitely not turning out the best.

Defense was the last class of the day, and the Gryffindors were just as nervous as the Slytherins as they flocked to the gloomy DADA classroom; Snape was dangerous enough when he was predictable. When Snape entered, they quieted down abruptly and without being silenced, despite their euphoria.

Snape swept in with his usual sneer, but Hermione could tell at once that he wasn't actually in a bad mood; on the contrary, his black eyes were sparkling. What the Hell was going on here? The professor glided to the front of the classroom and flicked his wand at the board, thus causing bullet points to scrawl across the chalk board in his cramped handwriting, as though by an invisible hand. Then he immediately began lecturing on inferi, and how to stop them with fire.

He had just started a very interesting part detailing the history of the inferius (apparently the spell had been invented in Babylon, but the technique was perfected in Egypt, where the inferi of peasants who were killed with their pharoah were used to guard tombs, and some were even mummified with their master to protect him for eternity) when a note silently appeared on Harry's desk.

Harry frowned. Hermione hissed at him not to pass notes ("I don't care that it's right after lunch, you ought to know not to pass notes in DADA")

However, as Harry crumpled up the note, Snape came up behind him. Harry didn't seem all that surprised, even when he spoke.

"Since _some _of us are more intent on passing notes than taking them, perhaps a more active demonstration is in order. Potter!"

"Yes sir?" Harry looked a little nervous, but not as much as he normally would be. Yep, there was definitely something going on. Hermione didn't like it.

"Up here, now- I want you to demonstrate an '_incendio_' for the class."

"Yes sir," Harry pushed his bag to the side and scrambled up to the front of the classroom. After Snape said: "Well, we do not have all year, Potter," he raised his wand and blasted off a mild _iincendio_\- and 'accidentally' set the professor's robes on fire. Hermione frowned. The way he was holding his wand, that just had to be intentional. And while Snape looked angry, the corners of his mouth were twitching ever so slightly.

"Glacius!" he snarled, extinguishing the fire. He then turned back to Harry. "Detention, Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor!"

"I'm sorry, professor," Harry replied contritely.

"Sit down before I take more points," Snape snapped, whipping around and walking back to the board. "The counter to _incendio_ as has been demonstrated, is _glacius_, and you should probably write that down, Mr. Potter, so you don't set your teachers on fire in the future."

Hermione's suddenly remembered her first year, when she herself, under the mistaken belief that Snape had been hexing Harry at the Quiddich game, set her professor on fire, and she couldn't help giving a tiny smile. Just as quickly, though, the smile was wiped from her face. Snape had only taken ten points. Just ten! He also seemed almost as if he was acting, albeit doing an extremely good job at it. What was going on between her friend and the professor? Most of the rest of the class were wondering why Snape hadn't taken more points. Several Slytherin pure-bloods were talking in quiet tones about the imperius and Passivity Solution.

Snape had them read a chapter in the DADA textbook. After they read it, he conjured several targets, and made the class line up, in pairs of Slytherin-Gryffindor, to cast '_incendio_' and '_glacius_' at them in turns. Ron and Draco had to be broken up after the Slytherin punched Ron's nose.

At the end of class, when the bell chimed, Snape barked "Potter, stay after class!"

Harry, who had been stuffing his books back into his bag, raised his head. "Ok," he said, and then to Hermione and Ron, "You don't have to wait for me."

Hermione frowned. Harry _never _said 'don't wait for me'! Especially not when he was being held after class by Professor Snape. What was he hiding!

"Ok, _sir_, Potter," Snape reprimanded without turning around, in a rather resigned voice.

Hermione reluctantly followed the rest of the class out, Ron tagging along with. As soon as they were out of the door, it closed with a soft click. The two of them went a little ways down the hallway, and then Hermione pulled Ron into an alcove to talk.

"Don't you think Harry's been acting a little off? I'm worried about him. Him and Professor Snape."

"Do you think the greasy git is doing something to him?"

"I don't know what to think." Hermione admitted. "I've been trying to figure it out all day."

"There's one way to find out." Ron rummaged in his bag, pulling out three textbooks, assorted quills, rumpled homework, and a half-full bag of Kraken Krisps before finding what he'd evidently been looking for: a small, brightly colored box. "It's a 'roving spyder'; the twins made it." He opened the box, pulled out a tiny very realistic metal spider with spindly black wire legs, shuddering as he held it, tapped it twice on the back and said: "Hogwarts DADA, 2nd level dungeon, very close." He shuddered again, ("I swear they only made them a spider to freak me out!) and tossed it to the floor. It was gone in seconds, and a moment later muffled voices eminated from the box in Ron's hand, as he hadn't extricated the controller from its box and Styrofoam.

**...somewhere that can be adequately warded against eavesdropping... **There was a crackle of static, and Ron cursed fluently, then tried to pick up the signal again. Apparently whatever the twins had done to make the bug 'magic proof' hadn't quite worked.

**...My quarters. Tonight.** Snape was saying when they got it to work again. Ron looked rather ill, and Hermione was staring at the control panel in disbelief.

**Ok, what should I say when my friends ask about detention?**

**You will be cutting iguanas into their component parts for me. **Snape replied. There was another buzz of static. **...points to Gryffindor for creativity...**That was when the connection cut entirely.

Hermione and Ron stared at each other; Ron looked as horrified as she felt.

"There _has _to be an explanation besides the one I'm thinking of!" Hermione said helplessly.

"Who would have thought, Harry and Snape..." was all Ron replied.

Hermione didn't get a chance to confront Harry until the free period between Magical History and dinner. They had been finishing an Herbology essay in the library (well, at least Hermione was; Ron was reading a Quiddich magazine hidden in his textbook, and Harry was staring blankly at a piece of parchment with perhaps a single sentence on it, his quill dripping) when Hermione finally lost it, throwing_ Magical Berries of the Midwest, Third Edition_ down hard. Both boys stared at her, and Ron quickly concealed the Quiddich magazine he had been reading in his lap. Madame Pince pursed her lips and shot a glare at all three of them.

"What's wrong, 'Mione?" Harry asked her after a long tense silence.

"Nothing," she said sharply, scribbling ferociously on her essay to distract herself. Now was not the time or place to confront him. She tried to distract herself by thinking about her essay on the medicinal uses of the invisible dusk-blooming star orchid, but for once she couldn't concentrate on homework. "What the heck is going on between you and Snape?" She said at last, wincing as heads started to turn towards the three of them.

"I...uh...what are you talking about?" Harry wouldn't look her in the face.

"Yeah, mate, what are you doing going to his quarters tonight?" Ron asked him, still a little pale from that particular revelation.

Hermione was starting to be really angry. "What are you doing _lying _to us?"

"Not here, I don't want to be overheard," said Harry frantically, glancing around at all the different tables filled with studying students.

Hermione shoved her Herbology essay into her folder so fast it rumpled, and then began to pack up all her textbooks and all the extra library books she'd gotten out, setting the books she didn't need in a messy ! stack. "Then we'll go to the Rooms of Requirement. C'mon, Ron." And before either of the boys could say a word, she grabbed Ron by the wrist and Harry by the cloak and marched them to the Rooms, fuming.

The Rooms of Requirement were set up like a comfortable sitting room for that particular occasion, complete with a roaring fire, squashy armchairs, and a beautiful varnished coffee table. Harry called Dobby and asked him to bring a tray of cookies, while all the while Hermione wiggled impatiently, wishing he would just get on with it, without all the niceties. At last, when they were all munching on a cookie (or in Ron's case, three) Hermione said: "Alright, Harry, spill."

"I...I don't know where to start," said Harry, sounding lost.

"The beginning would be great."

"Ok, I guess it started last summer. The Dursleys aren't exactly good grief councillors, and you guys weren't writing much, so I started going through Siri's old journals, in his memory sort of." There was a suspicious glossy quality to Harry's eyes.

"Oh, Harry..."

"And I found his notes on how to be an animagus."

Hermione jolted upright, stunned. "You didn't!"

"I...uh...actually did. I even brewed the animagus meditation potion on the kitchen stove with left over potion supplies when Aunt Petunia was out. I had to wait until Hogwarts to do the final transfiguration, of course, since that requires a wand, but by then I had the meditation down pat. All I had to do was the final wandwork. I just kept thinking Sirius would think it was a good prank."

"What's this got to do with Snape?"" asked Hermione at the same time that Ron asked, "So what are you, mate?

"I'm an Egyptian phœnix," Harry admitted, climbing off the sofa. He knelt, and then suddenly he was shifting and morphing, until at last he was an absolutely gorgeous bird.

He was just about a foot tall, with a wingspan at least a meter, with glossy pale gold flight feathers mixed with others of pure white, soft white down, and a three-foot tail of sky blue and royal purple, his scar echoed with a golden zig-zag marking in the same place that it was when he was human. Glowing green eyes like beads of jade glinted in the firelight.

"Wow. Just wow." Hermione whispered. Ron's mouth had fallen open.

Harry flapped long wings, a little golden feather falling into Hermione's lap as he lifted off, swooping around the room for a few minutes, executing spins and dives that were, if possible, even more dangerous than the ones he did so often on the Quiddich pitch. Then he landed and transformed back.

At least, _someone _landed and transformed back. But it wasn't Harry...

"What?" the boy asked, brushing his long hair out of his face. His voice sounded pretty much the same as Harry's...

"Bloody Hell!" Ron burst out. Hermione absently told him to watch his language, still staring at the boy. What on earth had happened?

"H-Harry?" she said. "What- how?

The boy blinked back at them, then gasped, facepalming. "Yeah, it's me," he told them. "I was getting to that."

"You better have a damn good explanation," Ron began warningly. It was a mark of how shocked Hermione was that she did not even think to reprimand him.

"So after I completed the transformation, " Harry went on, "I used to go flying at night in the Rooms of Requirement, 'cause I didn't want to be seen. But for the last couple of days I've been going out into the Forbidden Forest to work on my form in the real world."

Hermione muttered that crack-brained boys who continually sneak out after curfew should be given detention, while Ron simply looked at Harry as if he were mental. Harry just went on.

"And anyway, I was out last night when I came across Snape in the Forest, and he was hurt really badly; I think Voldemort wasn't too happy with him, as his anger had been giving me a headache all last evening. So I flashed to the Hospital Wing and grabbed some potions."

"You should have gotten Dumbledore!" Hermione told him. Why the heck did Harry always try to deal with things on his own! But Harry was shaking his head.

"He was at the ministry. I wouldn't be able to to reach him without either asking a teacher if I could use their private floo or flashing, and in either case I'd have to explain how I am an illegal phœnix animagus and where I found Snape. What do you think the Minister for Magic would say to that?"

Hermione sighed. "I see your point, but it wasn't really thought out. You could have gotten Madame Pomphrey; her Healer's Oath would keep her from telling anyone your secret." Hermione had actually wanted to be a Healer, but she read the invasive and restrictive Healer's Oath and decided she'd rather be a ministry flunkie like Umbridge.

"She was out buying extra skêle-gro." Harry told them.

"And you didn't wait? It's really dangerous to try to heal severe wounds if you're not a healer."

"I couldn't wait, Snape was dying!"

Ron muttered something about the greasy git deserving it, and Hermione reached out a hand to smack the back of his head. "Oh! But what if someone saw you?" she asked abruptly.

"There was a girl in the Hospital Wing, but she was asleep when I came in. I had to _obliviate _her when I left, though."

"You could have just left the Hospital Wing and then transformed," Ron said, actually making a good point. "You could have messed up her brain."

"I wasn't thinking!" Harry protested. "I didn't have time for that!"

"How bad was it?" asked Ron curiously. "It must have been really bad for you to be worried about Snape."

"He had a bunch of little burns and cuts and he was shaking from _crucitus _damage." Harry replied. Hermione winced. "And he had a big gash in his stomach. I think Bellatrix had a go at him."

Ron shuddered. Hermione, suddenly sat up straight as she realized what must have happened. Phœnix tears have healing powers; if Harry's phœnix form had the same powers as a real phœnix, he could just use phœnix tears. Which was, evidently, what he had done, as Snape had looked as fine and snarky as ever the next morning. "You used phœnix tears, didn't you," she speculated. "No potion could fix that, and Snape looked fine today."

"Phœnix tears?" Ron asked.

"They have healing powers," Hermione told him. "Cuthburt O'brandy has a whole treatise on phœnix magic. I would recommend it, but I know you don't read."

"Hey!" Ron protested. "I read Quiddich Through the Ages..."

Hermione sighed. That had _not _been what she meant. "So did you use phœnix tears?" she asked.

"Well, yes and no." Harry replied.

What on earth? Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I tried to use phœnix tears, but some of the damage was too bad, so I set him on fire. Phœnix fire," he hastily added as Hermione looked horrified and Ron muttered something that might have been "way to go!", probably because it was, but at a low enough volume that Hermione couldn't smack him for it. "The fire literally just burned away all his injuries. Healed everything. It also burned away his Dark Mark for some reason."

Hermione blinked, trying to remember where she'd heard about something like that before. It was some old book...about rituals... "Huh. I think I read about something like that somewhere."

Ron muttered "Of course."

"Huh," Hermione said again. Then her hand suddenly flew to her mouth, and she gave a little 'oh!' "Was Snape the only one on fire? Your scar is gone, and if what I think happened..." She trailed off worriedly.

"No, I was burning too. I think." Harry told her. "My scar was killing me, so I wasn't really that lucid."

"Oh my God, Harry!" Hermione burst out, suddenly remembering. It was a very old ritual, and really rare, because you need a phœnix willing to help; it was most often heard of in the Chinese fenghuang festival, when terminally ill Wizarding children were taken three miles up Mount Wutai to be healed by the intelligent and kindly birds. "You did the Rite of Flamma Aeterna?! On Snape?!"

"I guess. Apparently everyone knows about it except me."

"I didn't," Ron told him.

Hermione was shaking slightly as she realized how close Harry had been to death. "I...I have to go get my copy of _Oldest Rituals_."

She wasn't even completely out of her seat before the book popped up on the coffee table next to the half-empty tray of cookies. Hermione giggled almost histarically. "I forgot we're in the Rooms of Requirement." She was all business the next minute, flipping through _Oldest Rituals _with the fervor of research. "_Fama Nobis_, _Felis Naturale_, oh, here we are!"

" _Flamma Aeterna_," she read, " _is an involuntary ritual of intent. First documented by Pliny in 49 AD, the ritual occurs when a phœnix, of it's own free will and agency, induces an early Burning Day over the corpse or dying body of a virtuous man, to heal or resurrect them. __While it is not known exactly how it works, Morgana LeFay speculated that the ritual calls upon Old Magic to judge the man, as if the man is wholly evil or corrupted, both he and the phœnix will literally burn up from within._

_"This speculation is corroborated by the story of Dr. Dee, who had a pet phœnix who was very loyal to him, even as he decended into the path of Dark Arts. One day, he remorselessly killed his wife's father, for his inheritance. His brother-in-law, enraged, slipped a little aconite into his wine. The phœnix burned over him, but (as the story goes) he was too much enthralled by the dark arts, and as he had incurred the injury by killing killed a man without remorse, both he and the phœnix died at once._

_"Another story tells of a dark lord who imperiused a phœnix to burn over his dying son. It did, but, needless to say, neither the phœnix nor the men lived._

_"The effects of this ritual are not well documented, but Merlin writes that the ritual 'Heels Wunds both ove the Bodey and the Minde, and clenses the Sole, for the Pow'r of the Fyre-bird is antithetic to Evil.' Other, more modern sources, mention that one's patronus may be inordinately strong as a result of the ritual, and may even change shape. Judah DeMothe writes that the exchange of power between phœnix and man may even create a latent mind link."_

They all sat silently together for a long time after Hermione finished. Finally Ron said what they were all thinking. "You could have died! For Snape!"

They spent the rest of the evening in the Rooms of Requirement, sending Dobby (Hermione frowned) to get dinner when cookies proved not filling enough (well, at least for the boys) talking about the Rite for a bit and then playing Exploding Snap and Empire Building until Harry had to go to his detention and the other two reluctantly made their way to Gryffindor Tower.

Even though Hermione knew Snape had to be a good man, since the ritual wouldn't have worked otherwise, she couldn't quite banish the thought that Harry somehow was being taken advantage of. Once back in the Tower, she showered and brushed her teeth, then grabbed a volume of what she would call light reading and Ron would call torture and sat down in her favorite chair in the common room to wait for Harry to come back, Ron sitting with her. At a quarter to one, Ron went up to bed, and by three, she'd dozed off. By nine in the morning, Ron was shaking her awake.

"Harry's not back!" he hissed in her ear. "His bed hasn't been slept in."

Hermione sat bolt upright. "C'mon then. We've gotta go see Dumbledore."

AN: There is a poll on my profile regarding Phœnix Burning. Please vote!


	6. Chapter 6

Phœnix Files #6: A New Light

Hannah Abbott was enjoying herself. Hogsmeade weekends were always an especial treat, and as usual, she was happily situated in Honeyduke's, getting several pounds of candy for herself and her housemates: sugar quills, fizzing whizbees, luminous lollies, and so on- she even got cockroach clusters for that annoying Ravenclaw boy who always called her a duffer, (Susan said he had a crush on her, but Hannah was of the opinion that if he wanted to go out with her he should make an effort to be nicer).

Speaking of Susan...

"What's up, Hannah?"

Hannah whirled around. It was Susan, shopping bags draped over her forearms. "Not much, Suzie," she found herself replying. "I got all the sweets I want, but now I don't know what to do."

"We could go to The Three Broomsticks,"

"I...well...I overheard 'Liza say Nott was going to meet her there, and I'm avoiding him. Plus, I'm not really all that hungry."

Right on cue, Susan replied, "You know, that could be your opportunity..."

"I do _not _have a crush on Theo."

"You called him Theo."

Hannah blushed pink. "Just leave it!"

"I'm just saying. He _is _kinda cute in a snotty, I-know-everything way..."

"Shut up!"

"Ok, ok." Susan took the opportunity afforded by the sudden silence to start unwrapping a package of ice mice. "What do you think about the whole thing with the Gryffs getting ninety points from Snape?" she said at last, when the silence was threatening to become awkward.

"I don't really know what to think. I mean, I thought it was all something someone made up until I saw all the rubies in their house hourglass. Then I sorta just thought, maybe it was some other teacher. But I mean, he wasn't bad in class, you know. I'm sorta worried he's been like imperiused or blackmailed or something."

"Yeah, same," was Susan's response. "I mean, I kind of like being treated as if I halfway have a brain in class, though. And you know he helped Mandy Brocklehurst when her calming drought was green. Normally he's just like 'you're a Ravenclaw, figure it out',"

"Yeah. And I've never seen him smile before, either. He actually looks nice."

It was at that moment that she heard pops of apparation, and a scream, from the street outside. She and Susan looked at each other.

"We've got to get back to Hogwarts!" Susan said. She might have said more, but that's when they heard Professor Snape's silky voice raised above the terrified clamor in the candy store.

"Hogwarts students, over here!"

Not knowing what to do, Hannah and Susan hurried over. Professor Snape was already talking: "Hogsmeade is being attacked, as I'm sure you can perceive. Everyone under 17, which I assume is all of you, must head back to Hogwarts at once; there is an emergency tunnel in the basement of Honeyduke's that will take you straight to Hogwarts. Prefects, you're in charge of leading everyone back and rounding up stragglers. I have to stay to fight. Go on, hurry up!"

At that moment, the front window of Honeyduke's exploded in a shower of glass, which fell among the baskets of sugar quills and dragonbreath divinity like so much macabre sugar candy, and several of the girls screamed. Without looking to see if the students were obeying, Severus turned and crashed through the front door, wand in hand, accompanied by the cheerful tinkling of the bell.

Hannah hesitated.

"Hannah, what are you doing, c'mon!" Susan called, already halfway to the stairs.

"What about Professor Snape?"

"He's a teacher and he has a DADA mastery; he'll be fine!"

Hannah half turned towards the stairs. Then she shook her head. "I want to fight. It's like Harry told the DA last year; it's our responsibility to help!" And with that, she also took off towards the door.

Susan hesitated a few moments after the door had swung shut behind her friend and then followed.

Outside, the streets of Hogsmeade were a riot of students and citizens running, masked and plainclothes Death Eaters flinging unforgivables at close quarters, and way fewer aurors than there probably should have been. Hannah gulped. Then, as a bludgeoning jinx shot dangerously close to her face, she remembered the DA and began to fling stunners in quick succession at the Death Eaters that ran by, trying to keep an eye out for other Hogwarts students. Nearby, she saw the plump, motherly Professor Sprout protecting a group of third years, and one of her year mates, Blaise Zabini, sniping at the terrorists from the dubious shelter of a stack of crates in front of the Hog's Head.

And then she saw Snape.

Everyone who had taken Professor Snape's potion classes would say he was scary. Well, except for the Slytherins, whom he favored, and the Ravenclaws, who wouldn't admit it. But this was the first time Hannah had seem him when he wasn't hunched over a cauldron or booting hapless Gryffindors out of broom closets after curfew, and she had to admit he was good.

He fought so fast he was nearly a blur, curses of every color blazing from his wand, robes fluttering about him like an oversized bat, and before long, the ground was littered with Death Eaters, bleeding, covered in welts, sporting new appendages or missing them, and on and on, as Professor Snape shot off creative combinations of hexes. Hannah herself managed to stun five.

That is, before a masked Death Eater with frizzy black ringlets and voluminous dark robes swooped into the intersection. She flung a lazy disfiguring hex at Hannah, knocking her back into the wall with its force. She might have done worse than that, but at moment, Snape's voice had the Death Eater spinning around with a start.

"Bella!"

The newly named "Bella"- was that Bellatrix Lestrange?- gasped in shock.

"S-Severus?"

"You're lucky I am not inclined to torture," Professor Snape said quietly.

"Bella" actually audibly gulped. And that was when Snape hissed "_Infecta!"_* and she crumpled, convulsing. Snape glanced around, seeming to take in the carnage, and lowered his ebony wand, wand hand shaking ever so slightly. It was over, at least in this part of town.

Hannah walked slowly towards him, not wanting to startle him. "Professor? Are you hurt?"

Professor Snape spun around. For a moment he simply stared at her, very human emotion crossing his face: frustration, tiredness, and maybe, just maybe, something else. Then he seemed to snap out of it.

"Go back to Hogwarts," he stated, without a trace of his usual vitriol.

She might indeed have gone, but before she so much as moved Professor Snape's face froze, becoming transfixed with horror. He stared into the distance with glazed dark gaze, wobbling on his feet. Then his eyes rolled up and he sank back unconscious. What was happening!

Worried now, Hannah ran over to him, shaking him by the shoulder, saying "Sir?" She was about to call someone when he gasped and began stirring, and she sat back on her heels.

"Are you ok, sir?" Hannah repeated louder.

"Dementors," he gasped, struggling to his knees, his normally emotionless face overcome with emotion. "Dementors in Hogsmeade." A few moments passed, and the man seemed to get a hold of himself, and noticed she was there. "WHY ARE YOU NOT BACK AT HOGWARTS, MISS ABBOTT!"

Hannah flinched. "I couldn't leave you!"

Professor Snape stared at her for a moment, eyes widening. Then he rose unsteadily to his feet, still looking at her with an awkward, wide-eyed gratitude that made her almost sorry for him; as if no one has ever said that to him before. "I-thank you, Miss Abbott." He said, a peculiar tone in his voice. Then: "Come. You should be back at the castle now; it's not safe."

"What about you, sir?" said Hannah.

"I-I'll live, I was simply taken by surprise. Go on-"

Hannah turned slowly, whipping her head around in shock as she heard his next words: "And Miss Abbott? Fifty points to Hufflepuff for saving a teacher."

Hannah stared after him as he bolted up the street, faster than she'd ever seen him move before. And then her Hufflepuff loyalty surfaced, and she followed. What happened after that would be burned forever into her mind.

The street was full of dementors, filling the air with their syrupy, cloying chill, and Hannah was _very _glad Harry had taught the DA how to cast a patronus, even if hers was incorporeal. Death Eaters were around, to be sure, but none of them seemed to be in any condition to cast, what with the aura of the dementors, and so Hannah followed unpursued, protected by her silver patronus mist.

And then her heart nearly stopped. There were three Gryffindors in the center of the road, one of them Harry Potter, who was lying unconscious on the cobblestones, while Ron Weasley, still half conscious, levered himself up on his elbow in an attempt to use his wand. Hermione Granger stood over them, the bookish Gryffindor's face twisted in anger as she tried to fend off two Death Eaters. Hannah raced foreward, but Snape had already gotten there.

"FENRIR, WALDEN, GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY STUDENTS!" he roared, and then, as a dementor bent over the struggling Weasley, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Nothing happened for a solid minute, and Hannah wondered if he could even cast a patronus; then a blaze of aetherial golden light exploded from the tip, coalescing into a blazing golden doe, which bounded towards the dementors surrounding the outnumbered Gryffindors and tore them to shreds of black, slimy cloth and fragments of bone.

Hannah could only stare at him in mute awe. It seemed that there was more to her dour potions professor than she could ever have imagined.

* In Latin, undone or finished


	7. Update

**UPDATE:**

Hi everyone!

I am adding this temporary chapter to tell everyone that I have a new poll up on my profile, and I would really appreciate if as many people as possible vote; I'm trying to figure out which story to start next. So yeah! I would love your input. (Grins.) For your patience in reading this update, I humbly offer teasers to for all of my incomplete stories...

**Up next in A Different Kind of Training:**

...and Voldemort crumpled into a spasming heap and then was still. It was over. So why did Harry feel so apprehensive?

**Up next in Harry Potter and the Puppetmaster of Hogwarts Hogwarts:**

It was ironic and kind of sad that what would ordinarily have been a detention from Hell turned out to give him the means necessary to complete his plans.

**Up next in Let's do it Right This Time:**

"You disgust me. Killing a child, James? Remus's child? Get out of my house. Now. Or do you think I am too noble to cast unforgivables?

**Up next in Phoenix Burning:**

"No. I will not do it. There is a cure."

"But your Unbreakable Vow-"

"Is broken."

"How-"

"Simple. To be resurrected you must first die. And dying frees you of your depts."

**Up next in The Gilded Snake:**

"It's gone! The Dark Mark is gone!"

"That is impossible."

"Apparently not. Or are you insinuating that it just went on vacation?"

**Up next in The Greatest Weapon:**

Breaking News: The Savior of the Wizarding World Abused!

"Harry? Is this-"

"Give me a second, Seamus. 'Mione, Ron, see you in Charms this afternoon- I gotta go squash a bug."

**Up next in The Marriage Law:**

"Um, Professor, there seems to be a marriage contract. A marriage contract between the first available member of the house Prince and the house Potter. Can you come through?"

"A moment. I'm not nearly drunk enough for this."

**Up next in The Undiluted Truth:**

It was clear that his father would prefer that he not exist. Harry was considering indulging him.


	8. Chapter 7

Phoenix Files #7: Something Sacred

AN: _Very _brief illusions to angels, etc. I don't mean disrespect to anyone's belief system. Also, don't forget my ongoing poll: Which story would you like to see next?

Pomona Sprout was not stupid, despite what the other houses commonly said about Hufflepuffs. She'd gotten all O's and a P on her NEWT's (the P because she couldn't stand History of Magic, and put off studying whenever possible) and she had been the Head of the Herbology Guild in her day, and had several papers published and magical plants named after her. She was also the best Hufflepuff head of house there'd been in decades, not that she would admit it if you asked. But she couldn't figure out one Severus Tobias Snape.

She'd known the man for as long as he had been at Hogwarts, first when he was a student and then again when he became her colleague, and he'd never smiled this much, nor been so polite to the other staff members.

He'd also been much kinder to his students in the past few days, and according to the rumors making their way through her sixth-years as fast as they could talk, he'd actually given fifty points to Hannah Abbot. And, which was more, his own Slytherins were being much more firmly disciplined than they'd ever used to be.

He'd even made an effort to make his classes more engaging, and to help the students that were having trouble, as he never used to do. She also no longer heard so many complaints about impossibly long essays due in a day!

And, most surprising of all to her, he'd been at the 'Battle of Hogsmeade', as all her students were calling it, and he had fought with the rest of them on the side of the Light, rather than casting trip jinxes at the other Death Eaters when their backs were turned, or casting dark spells at "accidentally" hitting the terrorists, as he had to keep his cover. This was the first time she'd seen him really fight, and anyone would have no problem admitting that he was very good. Hell, she could even call it magnificent- she had had a front row seat, as she'd been there as well, defending her students, and she'd never seen anyone, except perhaps Dumbledore or Minerva Mcgonagall, who could fight that well, incorporating Russian battle magic, runes, and partial transfigurations specifically adapted for combat into a fluid pattern of attack, all while four or five Death Eaters at once attacked him. She'd also never seen _anyone_ cast a golden patronus, nor one which could actually physically destroy a dementor. He certainly hadn't been able to do that three years ago, when the idiotic minister had stationed the foul things around Hogwarts proper.

Something had happened to him, something that had changed him for the better, and she simply couldn't help wondering what.

Still, she was humble enough to admit defeat- she knew she wouldn't figure out _what _was going on, but the fact remained she knew there was _something_.

Pomona was abruptly shaken out of her thoughts by the entrance of the rest of the staff to the Hogwarts staff room, and the fact that the tea which she had been pouring herself was overflowing the sides of the mug. Hastily, she cast a _evanesco _to clean up the mess, charmed a little sugar into the brim-full mug (she dared not stir it) and retreated to her habitual armchair, still holding the cup. She'd forgotten that there was supposed to be a staff meeting today. Still, no harm no foul, as she was coincidentally here on time. She settled herself and waited for Dumbledore to begin.

It seemed that Severus was late, which was very unlike him, and she felt that her suspicions were quite confirmed when, for the first time, Dumbledore began the meeting without him. (Besides the rare occasions when Madame Pomfrey had sent a patronus saying he was poisoned or unconscious in the hospital wing.

"Well, now that we're all here-" Dumbledore faltered, and Pomona looked at him worriedly. He always looked so tired and worn these days, as if the weight of the war and his many years were lying too heavily on him, or as if he were ill. It was that, most of all, more than the withered hand she couldn't help noticing that made her worry about the old headmaster.

"Now that most of us are here," Dumbledore resumed, "I would like to begin this meeting. First, before any announcements, are there any questions, concerns or thoughts that any of you wish to bring up?"

The usual comments and concerns were raised: Madame Hooch wanted to petition the Governers for new school brooms, Minerva wanted Trelawny to lay off the sherry (to which the old seer responded that sherry heightened the sense of the occult), Hagrid reported that the thestrals were unusually snapish, and several problem students were discussed (the antics of several first years who wanted to follow in Fred and George's footsteps, a Slytherin prefect who tended to try to grope the girls, loud-mouthed Zacherias Smith, and so on), and Filch once again asked if he would be allowed to use some of the more extreme punishments.

At last Dumbledore nodded and closed the discussion. "Is that all?"

Everyone looked at everyone else, and then there were several nods.

"Very well. First off, I have been getting complaints about the arithmancy text, so with Professor Vector's imput, a new one has been chosen. Secondly, the ministry has agreed to returning to their usual inspection every decade rather than the more...active role they played last year."

There were several snorts at that. But before any comment could be made, Professor Snape slipped in the door, face blank, although she'd known him long enough to know that he was embarrassed at his tardiness.

"There will also be a Halloween masquerade, open to all years," Dumbledore continued. "I would like Professors Sprout and Flitwick and anyone who wants to volunteer to chaperone."

"The Inner Eye sees that that is a fabulous idea," said Trelawny dreamily. Minerva openly rolled her eyes, and in the corner of her vision Pomona could see Severus's lips twitching.

"And now that we're _all_ here," Dumbledore continued, his voice going grave, "I have a very important announcement to make."

Pomona did _not _like the sound of that. Something told her that whatever he was going to announce wouldn't be good, and she definitely didn't need anymore bad news.

"This summer I was cursed with _languesco mortis_."

Severus made a low choking noise, black eyes flashing with...was that panic? Septima's hands flew to her mouth, and Babbling, who was the most proficient of all of them in Latin and spell creation, gave a little gasp, evidently having figured out what the curse did. Pomona herself had never taken either Latin or arithmancy, but she knew that whatever it was, it couldn't be good. Especially not if it was Dark enough to provoke a reaction from there resident Dark Arts expert.

"As there is no cure accessible, my original plan was to keep it quiet so as not to cause the students to panic or word to reach Voldemort, and it was agreed between Severus and I" (all eyes flew to the youngest staff member) "that should I be cornered by Death Eaters he would kill me himself to rise in Voldemort's good graces and prevent someone who preferred the more...messy curses from doing the job."

Severus visibly winced, seeming to shrink inside his stiff black teaching robes at the thought, and Pomona felt suddenly choked up. While Severus never seemed to care about anything, she had seen how much he respected the old man, and she'd seen him relax around him in ways that she hasn't witnessed since Lily had been alive and still called Evans. It must have been almost a physical blow for his mentor to have given him this command, and he looked almost like a kicked cur in that moment, expecting to be verbally attacked by the rest of the staff.

"But now that he is no longer a spy, I felt that the secret no longer needed to be kept from you, although I trust that it will go no further. The fact remains that I will die before the year's out."

"There is a cure," Severus protested, a note of desperation she had never before heard from him lacing his tone. It sounded like this wasn't the first time he'd voiced that particular objection. "Or the salve- if you would allow me to prepare it..."

"No," Dumbledore replied. "It would be useless to waste so much phoenix ash on an old man like me, and I would still be dependent on it for the rest of my life. I'm simply not that valuable."

Hagrid began to sob loudly, hiding his face in a spotted handkerchief. Charity looked on the verge of tears, and Severus's black eyes were glistening unusually brightly.

"But you have Fawkes!" Charity burst out, lip trembling and voice wobbling uncertainly. Pomona herself felt her eyes stinging, and a solitary warm droplet began to wend its way down her cheek. "Couldn't he give you the ash?"

"He does not burn more than twice a year," Dumbledore responded, looking very old. "And I would not selfishly ask him to give me more than he already has. He already burned twice this year, and I know how painful it is. Besides, Severus was forced into an unbreakable vow. He would die if I did not. I simply tell you this now so that you will understand when the time comes, and so that you will not condemn him."

Panic, self-revulsion, and fear seemed to war momentarily on Severus's face. For the merest instant, a flicker of brilliant silver seemed to flash in his eyes. Then he began to speak hoarsely."No. I will not do it. Not when there is a cure. I would die, if I had to."

"But your Unbreakable Vow-"

"Is broken," Severus responded forcefully, the silver flickering in his eyes again. His entire body was trembling. A few sparks of pure magic began to fly off of him, and Pomona felt a thrill of fear. Something wasn't right. The only way to break an Unbreakable Vow would be to die, and it was abundantly clear that Severus was quite alive. If it was even Severus, which she was beginning to doubt. How could someone experience a personality shift so great as Severus had in the last three days? And it was clear that she was not the only staff member who was staring, incredulously.

"How-" Dumbledore began.

The Potion Master's thin face seemed to be suddenly almost luminous in the guttering torchlight, and his eyes were nearly pure silver now. The air around him was beginning to shine with a dim but aetherial glow. "Never mind how. All you need to know is that you needn't die out of some mistaken obligation."

Dumbledore stared at him, blue eyes wide. Pomona was getting scared now. It seemed as if Severus was being controlled by something foreign, something alien, something that had wormed it's way inside him insidiously and was now directing his actions and feeding on his magic.

"I _will _cure you," Severus said forcefully, and his eyes flashed white. "There is no need for this." And then he took a step forward, and then another. As he walked, a pale, swirling silvery haze, like the sheen on a cauldron of amortentia, or an incorporeal patronus, began to seep into the air, billowing up around him.

She could feel it. Rich, wild, _pure _magic bathed the room in waves, like the tide slowly coming in, and suddenly she knew there was no need to be afraid. It felt so powerful as to overwhelm her with awe, displacing the fear, because she could feel it was Light magic. It reminded her of something, but she could not think what.

Severus took another shaking step towards the frozen headmaster and then very gently took his wrinkled hand in his own potion-stained ones. For a moment he simply stood there, holding Dumbledore's hand, and then he gave a little moan of pain and silver fire erupted from his fingertips, sinking into the headmaster's hand. Dumbledore screamed, sinking to his knees, tears of pain streaming down that old face, but Severus's own expression seemed fixed in a sort of angelic rapture, which didn't change even when a panicking Minerva tried to drag him bodily away from Dumbledore, who was still screaming.

Pomona knew instinctively that to interrupt what Severus was doing would not be good in the slightest, and, reaching for her wand, stunned Minerva before glancing at the others, who were still in shock. And no wonder! Then, fascinated, she returned to the scene before them, feeling almost dirty that she was watching, as if she were intruding upon something sacred and beautiful and _private_.

Around Severus, the pearlescent most was arcing up on both sides like angel's wings, outlined in silver fire, and suddenly she knew what it reminded her of. Fawkes.

And then the magic was blazing in a supernova of pure white. When it cleared, she saw a younger-looking Albus, on his knees, shaking like a leaf, and Severus, flat on his back and unconscious, his robes still smoking from the magic he had channeled.


	9. Chapter 8

Phoenix Files #8: Milk Run

It should have been a milk run, a drop dead easy mission that even the junior Unspeakables could handle. Unspeakable F259 wasn't a junior Unspeakable either, by any means; he had been on the mission sent to neutralize the portal that some idiot warlock had opened over the Bermuda Triangle, not to mention that he took _Felix Felicis _on a regular basis, to make sure that his missions ran smoothly. He might have blamed today's mission on forgetting to take said potion, but as the substance was also added to the teapot in the Unspeakable lounge (rather like an ordinary ministry department might spike it with firewhiskey) he couldn't even say that.

All the same, the mission was as simple as the strategy team could make it; go to Hogwarts, use Unspeakable authority to get Harry Potter and Professor Severus Snape to come with him to the Department of Mysteries, and turn the two over to the Head Unspeakable for various tests, as (according to the Unspeakable intelligence team) their magic was acting in totally new and unusual ways, (such as healing a curse which had no known antidote and accidently de-aging one Albus Dumbledore) and needed to be studied. F259 could understand where they were coming from with Potter, but Snape...he'd been pretty normal when F259 had gone to Hogwarts, just the bookish Slytherin who was an outcast even in his own house. So what had changed between then and now? He pondered the mission as he approached the castle Hogwarts, taking care not to attempt to apparate anywhere near the wards, not wanting to set them off even with the charmed bracelet which would hopefully allow him to enter the school unaffected by the geas which Dumbledore had laid on his department.

That was another thing. How _dare_ Headmaster Dumbledore ward all the personnel from the Department of Mysteries away from Hogwarts? Come to think about it, how _had _he done so? That would bear thinking about, as the Unspeakables had their own brand of magics, and could typically not be warded out of any place. Oh, well, he wouldn't have to worry about that now, not with the bracelet that Unspeakable BR802 had made for him, literally inventing the spells required to get him into any place, even if it was warded up tighter than a Gringotts Founder's vault. Dumbledore shouldn't have even had the power to interfere with Unspeakable business in the first place, at least more than nominally, but he'd taken offense to Unspeakable U505's request to borrow Potter and Snape for magical testing and had- somehow- managed to ward the entire department away from his school. The old man had guts, F259 would give him that, but in the end, it would only make it more difficult for all involved if he tried to interfere with things he had no business disrupting.

F259 felt the brush of the wardlines against his skin, but although they tingled uncomfortably, he stood firm and let the bracelet- the best PH0262 and YN99 could come up with, given the time limits- do its work. It warmed against his skin, and then he stepped through the powerful old wards unaffected. F259 smiled and walked straight across the grounds to the old castle, trusting the host of concealing charms and magical signature masking spells on his robes to keep him from being noticed or apprehended. Not that it was legal to arrest an Unspeakable anyway, he thought smugly as he entered the castle itself through the main doors, not even bothering to sneak about, since he certainly didn't have to.

He entered the Entrance Hall, waiting for his charmed earring- a marvelous creation which was one of the most closely guarded secrets of the Department of Mysteries, as it whispered in your ear whatever you needed to know at a given moment- to spring to life; it would tell him where he needed to go from here. _*Severus Snape is in the hospital wing and Harry Potter is in the Gryffindor common room* _an androgynous voice said in his ear, so quietly that no other wizard could have heard it. Good. He'd head for the hospital wing first, followed by the common room, and get it over with.

A few minutes found him by the entrance to the hospital wing, as he had remembered the shortcut from when he had been a prefect at Hogwarts himself, many years previously. The Ravenclaws had many private tunnels and passageways, either keyed to Ravenclaws (of the bloodline or just sorted into the house) that had been kept secret from all the other houses (indeed, from everyone but the other Ravenclaws and the Headmaster) and he was quite familiar with it, both from the times when he had had to take sick or injured students to the nurse, or when his experimental spellcrafting and potion-making blew up in his face or left him with extra appendages; he had been quite the sorcerer in his time.

F259 entered the hospital wing...only to find that it was swarming with students and aurors. Wait, aurors? What the hell were _they_ doing here?

"Professor Snape is very ill and recovering from magical exhaustion. Whatever you want to talk about can wait!" U505 recognized the voice as Madame Pomfrey's and idly wondered if she would prove to be a problem. She _was _typically a little overprotective of her patients, although surely she would understand that it was necessary to learn from the two unusual wizards for the good of the wizarding world as a whole. The testing might be a little invasive, but in the grand scheme of things, one had to admit that it was necessary.

"We have a ministry warrant; move aside, woman," the auror said, explaining. F259 frowned. There was a ministry warrant for Snape's arrest? How in Merlin's name had that happened?

"Now, gentlemen, surely it can wait until Severus is conscious?" Oh, great, Albus Dumbledore was involved. F259 sighed. This was going to be annoying, wasn't it? _*Yes, it is,* _the earring told him; while it _did_ work, it was altogether too talkative for him. That's what one got for being eligible for one when they were still in the prototype stage, he supposed grumpily, then straightened, ready to act in his official capacity. "Enough," he said, the charms on his hood making his voice empty and toneless. He actually rather enjoyed the looks on the faces both of the aurors and the Hogwarts staff.

"Who the Hell are you?" said one of the aurors, obviously only snapping because he was scared.

_*The two aurors in the lead are Dawlish and Rookwood,* _the earring supplied, and F259 smiled beneath his hood, and responded: "It doesn't matter who I am. Dawlish, Rookwood, move aside. We'll take this from here." For all its flaws, that overly-gaudy piece of gold was very helpful, especially since it made all the wizards in the Department of Mysteries seem quasi-omniscient.

"Sir, we have a ministry approved warrant for the detention of Severus Tobias Snape, and-"

Couldn't that idiot Dawlish see that F259 didn't give a damn what they were doing, except that they were preventing him from accomplishing his objective? "Move aside," F259 snapped- at least, what passed for snapping under his voice-distorting hood. "I need to speak to him."

"Who do you think you are?" Hadn't the idiot been taught about the existence of Unspeakables?

"I am Unspeakable F259," he replied, making a concerted effort not to blow up. It would give the Unspeakables a bad name if he hexed the idiot, not to mention he would be wasting perfectly good hexes if he were to do so. All the same, hexes weren't needed now, considering how quickly and violently the man paled at the transmission of this intelligence. "Now let me do my job."

"Please, gentlemen-" Dumbledore tried to cut in. F259 silenced him with a snap of his fingers, watching the man struggle against his wandless magic with an invisible grin. Serve the man right for causing so much trouble!

At that moment, however, there was a sudden flash of sapphire fire in the corners of F259's vision, and he turned his head to see a young man with long black hair and deep green eyes, floating a few inches from the floor, anger and frustration plain on his face. What in Merlin's name? How could a _student _(at least, it looked like a student; you could never tell completely without a physiognomy test) be using (and controlling) this much magic? Hmm. Maybe he should mention this to the Head Unspeakable, after he got back, of course.

It was just then that Severus Snape appeared to try to sit up, but fell back against the pillow instead with a faint moan, slitting his black eyes in pain. Madame Pomfrey instantly tried to approach, but was held back by one of the aurors- so the dunderheads were good for something, then- and Albus Dumbledore, who was trying to poke his nose, once again, into other people's business, was summarily ignored.

Now would be a good enough time to get on with his mission, F259 supposed, and spoke as prompted by the sentient magical earring: "Mr. Snape, we need you to answer a few questions, in the interests of our department." Had it been him speaking, he wouldn't have been nearly as courteous, but he supposed that the Department probably should not alienate other wizards, just for policy's sake. Not that anything could do anything about it if they did, but it was the thought that counted.

"I...is there any possible chance you could wait?" Snape rasped, sounding, for all the world, like he had a bad case of dragoncough. "I...am not at all well."

"No, you may not wait. Firstly, how did you cure the _languesco mortis _curse, and how did you deage Albus Dumbledore?"

"I what!?" Snape choked.

"Answer us," F259 said, hoping to intimidate him into telling the truth.

"I have no idea how I cured the curse, and I was not aware that the primal magic had any other effects," Snape said, eyes fluttering shut as if just that little sentence was too much for him. "It was accidental."

Accidental?! Few to none wizards had accidental magic that strong even when they were children, and accidental magic ceased entirely by the time a wizard was about thirteen, except for occasional bursts of it during dreams or nightmares or flares when they were very angry. The only way Snape could be telling the truth is if he had a creature inheritance, which would allow for primal or erratic magic. But if he _did _have a creature inheritance, he would probably already know about it; an inheritance came into full effect at the age of seventeen, or very rarely a few years later, and Snape was certainly much older than seventeen. Besides, even if Snape _had _had an unknown, twenty-year late inheritance, it would still have been in the DOM archives, magically and automatically recorded. Not to mention that there was no known creature that had the powers described that was also able to mate with a human. So what in Merlin's name had happened, then? Oh, well, he'd get it out of the man eventually; either that, or BR775 would fish it out of his brain later, after F259 had gotten the man back to Headquarters. He looked at the next question on the list that JC601 had given him and nearly choked, but asked it anyway. "And how did you break an Unbreakable Vow?"

"I died," responded Snape quietly, amid the gasps of the other witches and wizards in the Hogwarts hospital wing. "I died and was reborn as a result of the Rite of _Flamma Aeterna_."

F259 frowned beneath his mask. What if the Potions Master had imbibed some of the powers of the phoenix who had dragged him through its resurrection cycle? That would certainly account for the unusual magics, but how would that work? As far as F259 could tell, the Rite of _Flamma Aeterna_ was simply a rebirth ritual; it didn't give the human saved any special powers or anything of that sort. And how did the Rite even work on an Ex-Death Eater? "What other unusual effects resulted from the ritual?" he asked impassively, hoping to receive more clues. He would have asked a more specific question, but he didn't know the details, which left him at a disadvantage, and his earring didn't seem to have any more intelligence to offer; perhaps it needed a recharge.

"What effects _didn't_?" responded Snape, with a snarky tone that F259 did _not _like.

"Answer the question," F259 threatened, making his voice go lower and more dangerous though the masking charms. Snape flinched.

"Very well. Considering that the phœnix was also an animagus, it caused a latent Sacred Triple Bond and changed a number of my vital signs- you can look over my medical scans for that. It also stripped my Dark Mark entirely." At this, the man's head fell back onto the pillow again, long-lashed black eyes sliding shut. Damn. They might actually have to feed him a few pepper-ups and core-increasers before beginning experimentation, at this rate; he might actually not be faking it.

It was then that what Snape had said actually registered, and F259 sucked in a deep breath. _What?! _Magical animagi were very, _very_ rare, and usually even if they did occur the person in question would likely be a snidget or a grindlow, not a rare, immortal and incredibly rare magical bird. There had only ever been mention of _one _phoenix animagus ever, in history, and even then, the report was likely based on only a bit of muggle hearsay and a few fragmented references. For a magical animagus to have initiated the_ Flamma Aeterna_, and survived...that was practically inconceivable.

"What do you mean the phœnix was also an animagus?" he asked sharply, hoping to shock the man into a contradiction.

That was when another, unfamiliar voice broke in, just as Snape was opening his mouth."Exactly what he said." F259 whirled around.

"Who are you?"

"Harry Potter," was the response, although the boy certainly did not reassemble the old Harry Potter. He had shoulder-length messy black hair and no scar, and in addition, he was floating about three inches off the ground, and hadn't appeared to have noticed it yet. "I'm a phœnix animagus, although I haven't had a chance to be registered yet."

"Forgive me if I need some proof, Mr. Potter," F259 said coldly. For all the media's prattling, there was next to nothing special about the Potter boy as far as he could tell except that he survived, which was likely more his mother's doing than his own. Besides, you had to be at least sixteen (which Potter was) to attempt animagus training safely, and you needed a potion and an adult wizard assisting, not to mention that fully achieving the transformation normally took a year, the larger the transformation, the longer it would take. The only exception to this is if a wizard's parents conceived him in their animagus forms, which would create a natural animagus who could change as soon as he or she was born, but this was extraordinarily rare due to the rarity of two wizards having achieved animagus forms which are close enough genetically to breed, not that there were many animagi to begin with. F259 highly doubted that James and Lily Potter were phoenix animagi...

But even as F259 began to express his doubts, Potter knelt and warped slowly into a Lesser Egyptian Phoenix (at least that's what F259 thought it was) before changing back promptly, a triumphant look on his face.

"I...see," F259 said, very glad that the vocal charms prevented his voice from shaking. Merlin, that shouldn't have been possible; none of this should, and F259 didn't understand how any of it happened. And he _specialized_ in the impossible! "So did you notice any unusual effects of the ritual?" he continued at last.

"Well, my scar was burnt away, along with the dark magic attached to it. That's just about all on my side."

"I see. Very well. I'm afraid that you both are to come with me. We have to do some experiments." Oh, he was so getting a raise when he brought the wizards and the news back to the DOM!

"Wait, what are you-" the auror who had spoken was summarily silenced. So was Dumbledore when he tried to interfere, yet again, with Unspeakable business, and Madame Pomfrey when she tried to refuse.

And that was when Potter's magic exploded outward in a great plume of sapphire fire and sparks, a maelstrom of magic. F259 shivered beneith his silky charmed robes, ice and lightning shooting through his veins at the magic. Oh, Merlin, the boy was so powerful, and for the first time, F259 began to be afraid. This boy could literally burn him to ashes, _wandlessly_. Maybe...maybe this was a mistake. But it was in the name of science! "I don't know who you are or what authority you think you have, but you are not moving the professor while he's ill, and I don't particularly like the idea of going with you to be experimented on, either."

"Harry..." Snape rasped. Potter ignored him.

"Get out." His voice was as cold as ice, and sparks crackled off his tongue as he spoke.

"Mr. Potter-" began Professor Dumbledore.

Potter ignored him too. "Get out."

F259 took a threatening step closer, trying to mask his terror at the green-eyed demon he was facing. Potter narrowed his eyes, flicking a wrist. And a vortex of glittering blue opened around the man, sucking him painfully into the void.

F259 came too sputtering and choking on a sickly sweet fluid which had drenched his robes and was coming into his mouth every time he tried to take a breath, and he didn't even have his wand. He had to rip off his hood with his bare hands, and then he looked around him in shock; this was most certainly _not _the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. It was a great room with walls covered in crystal mirrors and a floor of deep red velvet, the ceiling (if indeed there was a ceiling) totally concealed by churning pink mist. The air was impregnated with a sickly sweet spicy odor of mingled chocolate, cherries, cut grass, cinnamon, cloves, and perfume, and the vast room was almost totally empty, except for a book on a podium, a glass freezing unit full of bottled potions, and a glass case filled with countless jewels and artifacts. F259 struggled out of the fountain (which was what he was in) and staggered weakly across the floor, shedding his robes as he did so.

He had only ever heard, and seen pictures of, this room. The Love Room, in the Department of Mysteries. A room which only the most trusted personnel could even enter, much less access. There was the book of soulmates, the great tome that listed all the soulmate pairs that existed, and the artifacts confiscated from thousands of dealers and vaults and smuggling rackets, and the potions (everything from emotional adoption potions to soulmate potions, truth-in-love, lust philtres, love potions, and potions with various bedroom applications). Oh, Sweet Merlin!

All the amortentia he had swallowed was making him feel dizzy and nauseous now, and his undergarments clung to him with a horrible sticky sensation, making him itch so much that he stripped them off entirely; amortentia was not supposed to be topical, or consumed in large doses. So at last, missing his wand, clothes, and earring, and feeling so sick that he didn't want to move, much less report, he staggered out into the center of the DOM.


End file.
